


sorted

by v3ilfire



Series: between fields of fire and miles to go [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5058901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v3ilfire/pseuds/v3ilfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camilla knew he was watching her, reading every line in her body, trying to sort out the tension. It made her even more uneasy.</p><p>“I cannot help but feel that you are somehow cross with me.”<br/>“What did you think you were doing?”</p><p>(The question was alluding to a particularly nasty injury meant for a warden, and taken by an assassin.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	sorted

“Is he up yet?”

Wynne jolted awake from her near-slumber in the chair with a sharp inhale. She saw Camilla standing at the door, looking completely out-of-place in Redcliffe’s borrowed fineries for a girl who had been born into their like.    
“No, not yet.”  
“Oh.”

She watched the young Warden fidget with her hands a moment before adding, “You may go upstairs and visit him, if you wish.”

Camilla almost jumped out of her own skin at the suggestion. She began shaking her head vigorously.   
“No! No it’s fine, I uh… I just wanted to know, I guess. I don’t really care -- I mean, I care -- not like -- oh, fucking shit. I’m going to bed. Tell that moron that I’m mad at him. And also thank you -- to him, not you -- I mean, to _you_ too, but -- you know what, no, I’ll tell him myself. Or -- I don’t really want to but, I --”  
“You were going to bed, Camilla.”

Thankful for the distraction, she whipped around and flew towards the stairs. Wynne chuckled at a maidservant’s startled yelp, and closed the book drooping off her lap.

Camilla stopped in front of the door where Zevran was laid to recover from his injury. She had not been in there since he was brought in, still shaken from what had happened. Most of their venture to Lake Calenhad and back was spent with her trying to convince herself that he was fine, that the hands she’d see would be tanned and calloused and his and not like sickly like her father’s when he lay bleeding out before her.

Zevran’s injury was not so severe, but to be fair, it was hard to put some memories aside.

Having moved on, Camilla lay in her bed staring at the ceiling. There was always a bizarre feeling about staying in Redcliffe, how _same_ but _not same_ it was to Highever. It put her ill at ease to think that she never realized how difficult it would be to try and spend a night in the castle by herself. In any castle by herself.

She was back at the door just as her heart crept towards the hollow in her throat.

The door itself gave to a gentle push and she was inside before she could regret her decision. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark in the room, the moonlight giving just enough for her to make out the assassin’s sleeping figure in the darkness.

( _Sleeping_ , with the rise and fall of his chest steady and sure as ever. Peaceful. Resting. Fine.)

It was then that Camilla realized that her plan had one critical flaw, and that was exactly what she could possibly do once actually inside the room. Zevran was asleep and, as far as her experience was concerned, sleeping people made for poor conversation. She couldn’t just climb into bed and curl up next to him - she was still mad at him, anyways - and she couldn’t very well just keep standing there like an asshole.

She was busy squinting for a chair when Zevran’s voice alerted her to the fact that his eyes were half-open, glowing at her in the darkness.  
“You still have much to learn when it comes to stealth.”

The rage came rushing back.

“Whatever,” she shot back curtly, and crossed her arms. Her eyes found a particular point of interest in a gaudy vase off to her left. Meanwhile, he had the audacity to laugh.  
“Come now, my dear Warden. It was a joke. What do I owe this visit?”  
“It’s not a visit.”  
“Oh? You are here, in my borrowed quarters. As far as visits go, this does suit the definition.”  
“Wynne told me to come see you. That’s all.”

Camilla knew he was watching her, reading every line in her body, trying to sort out the tension. It made her even more uneasy.

“I cannot help but feel that you are somehow cross with me.”  
“What the fuck did you think you were doing?”

She may have been bad at sneaking around, but the woman was a _master_ of whisper-yelling.

“I was doing my job as one of your protectors. You were not watching your flank.”  
“Oh, so this is my fault now? I had it under control. You did not need to play hero.”  
“You were about to be run through the chest with a rather imposing knife. Not even Wardens can recover from something like that.”  
“So you getting run through is better?”    
“I do not see how it is worse. You and Alistair are Wardens. Given the crisis at hand, I am rather disposable.”  
“Don’t you -- fucking --“

Camilla stopped herself short. Her entire body felt hot and _awful_ and her jaw had clenched down on itself with such ferocity that words were a challenge to force out. The silence, she soon came to discover, was far worse.

“I -- you can’t. You can’t do that.”  
  
Zevran watched her shift her weight about, her eyes still off in the darkness, searching for shapes she couldn’t decipher. For ghosts.  
  
“You have done the same for me before. Perhaps not to this extent, but the fact remains.”  
“That’s different.”  
“I do not see how, except for the fact that you, one of the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden, are willing to throw yourself in a path of danger meant for me. I am an assassin in your employ, possibly more of a liability than help, I am perfectly --”   
“Call yourself disposable one more time and I swear to Andraste herself I will --”

Another silence. Longer, this time. Sickening.

“You will what?”  
“Nothing. You know what, nevermind. It was a bad idea for me to come here. Go back to sleep.” Camilla turned, and with one hand on the door handle, paused just long for the fear in her bones to shift to anger again. She whipped right back around to yell, “You’re such a fucking idiot, you know that?”  
Zevran lay watching her in silence, his eyes fully open now. She could at least see that much.  
“You can’t just do shit like that.”

As per usual, the first part of her declaration had been far stronger than its fizzled-out ending. She didn’t even have enough anger left in her to look cross - it had all turned back into fear and guilt, having finally untangled itself in her stomach.

“Camilla.”  
“What?”  
“Come here.”

He pat the bed next to him, and after a moment of trying to find an excuse to get out, Camilla shuffled over to the bedside. Zevran pat the bed insistently at her reluctance. For the first time that night, she looked him dead in the eye and, with a sigh, sat down on the very edge of the bed.

“You are _so_ \-- come _here_ ,” he said, and yanked the woman over by the waist. Camilla struggled against him weakly, but he had locked her in against him and there was a certain comfort to the proximity that she didn’t realize she had craved lying alone in her bed.  
“What are you doing?”  
Zevran was surprised to hear her anger replaced by exhaustion so quickly.  
“I have been without company for two weeks. Wynne is a beautiful woman, but unfortunately, does not fall for my charms as you do. You can be mad at me again in the morning.”

Camilla wriggled about in his grip until she could curl her body around him. As soon as she put her arm across his chest, Zevran hissed.  
“Is that where it is? I’m sorry -- I --”  
“I am only joking. Worry does not suit you.”  
“I’m not -- I --”

Thankfully, she did not have to struggle for long, because he kissed the top of her head, and she relaxed immediately.  
“I appreciate it,” he muttered against her hair, and she nuzzled her head further against his shoulder in response.  
“Don’t do it again. Please.”  
“Since you asked so nicely, I will consider it.”


End file.
